And? It is.
It’s totally full of junk and overpriced oak hutches from 1980.

However? Craigslist is also the source of all awesomeness. The hutches are just there to scare off the non-believers… To test your faith and weed out the heretics.

Craigslist is like an estate sale, an antique store, and trash night, all rolled into one and delivered to your house.

If you’re not monitoring Craigslist for your heart’s desire? You’re an idiot. And I LOVE that about you… because it leaves more for ME.

I have a siren in my head that reacts to anything old, broken, giant, gilded, Victorian, fancy, or generally too large to fit in my house… and when I saw this, it went crazy.

ALERT. ALERT. ALERT.

I swear to you—if you gave me the option of a Nobel Prize? Or this? I would take this.

The text of the ad that’s cut off explains that the house is being renovated into apartments, (near one of Philadelphia’s university areas,) that the wardrobe is in excellent condition… and can be removed without damaging it.

It was Sunday morning, and the time-stamp on the Craigslist ad told me it had literally JUST posted. Clearly, a message from the universe.

I RAN downstairs. What Paul calls the Craigslist-charge. He claims that he can tell, by my footsteps, the degree to which his day has just been hijacked.

And I was like—WE HAVE TO GO GET THIS RIGHT NOW.

Paul said—are you… shaking?
And I was like, please. Stop speaking. Put your shoes on. Hurry.
If someone ELSE gets this I will NEVER get over it.

Paul said—Wait a minute. What is it?
And I was like—it’s the portal to Downton Abbey… It’s everything I ever wanted… it’s a MESSAGE from the UNIVERSE.

HURRY!!

Paul said—hang on… What are you planning to do with it?
And I was like— I’m going to… eh…. Uh? What?

Let’s take a sidebar here: What is THAT about?
YOU people know what I want to do with this. And you more or less JUST met me.
My husband, on the other hand, apparently doesn’t even live on my planet.

Did I not show him Pilar Guzman’s kitchen, seven hundred times? Do I strike you as the sort of person who would fail to communicate my heart’s desire?

And? Maybe you remember seeing my dream kitchen? SEVEN HUNDRED TIMES?
And maybe you can see that this is pretty much the universe manifesting what lives in my head?

In fact, it’s possible I AM CONTROLLING THE WORLD WITH MY MIND.

Apparently Paul was not impressed with my world-bending mind tricks. Because he said— That is not going to fit in the kitchen. And I was like, oh really? How do you even know that?

He was like—sure, okay… so how tall is it? How long is it?
And I was like—I have no idea… it doesn’t say. But it doesn’t LOOK that big.

Paul was like, believe me. That is PLENTY big. The sink is maybe about three feet tall. And it’s about the same width, so lets say it’s three feet wide… and in comparison, the side units are even wider, let’s say four feet each, so I’d say overall it’s between 11 and 12 feet long… which is too big for the kitchen.

What is with the savant-style measuring? That is beyond aggravating.
(For anyone who wants to keep score: the entire thing is 11′ 6″ long.)

It is good that I am so skilled at ignoring reality, in favor of what I want to believe… because if I weren’t, I would have to remember that Paul has never once been wrong about this kind of thing.

He had more questions too: How is it built into the wall? How does it come apart? What floor is it on? How will we get it out? WHERE are you going to put it?

I was like, do you not SEE what I am showing you?
Your questions are IRRELEVANT.
Did I somehow neglect to emphasize my wish for GIANT FANCY THINGS?

It doesn’t matter who, what, where, when, why.

If I keep it in the garage to store my gardening tools in, WHAT do you care?

Paul said– well, can you ask him how big it is?

And I was like, I’m sorry… but you KNOW I can’t do that. We can go there and LOOK at it, and then decide, but we have to GET there first.

Let me give you some advice about Craigslist. I’ve learned it the hard way: if you MUST have something… Do not make an offer, ask a question, or otherwise confuse the situation.

If you MUST have something, and that thing is a monster Victorian Eastlake wardrobe that every antique dealer and salvage company in Philadelphia will be after? Do not even ask how big it is.

To stand out from the 400 emails the seller is going to get, you have to be the one person who requires nothing. You have to be a beacon of simplicity and straightforwardness.

Now is the part where Paul says I MUST tell you how I misrepresented the ease with which this would be removed.

In my defense– the guy selling it TOLD me that he had his carpenter look at it. And the carpenter said— no problem. EASY.

All you need is a screwdriver.

Plus, I had backup… if you’ve been reading me for a while, you remember Brian, our neighbor… the one who gave me the Asian dolls and used to be an antique dealer? Well, he and I have become friends… We are allies in the belief that opportunities like this are rare and must be seized.

He assured Paul that he had removed a couple of these when he was in business, and that they really do come apart EASILY. That they are put together with dowels, and some well-placed screws… It’s just a matter of figuring out which piece to start with.

Which, technically IS actually true.

So Paul just took a basic bucket of tools.

Basic. Not demolition.

We’d been there for about twenty minutes and Brian said—Wow! This is an unusual piece… I don’t know how they built this!! And the guy selling it said– yeah, I’m going to leave, call me if you figure it out…

Paul looked at me.
It was not the look of love.

It was the look that said—you have failed, on all fronts, to prepare me for this job, and I cannot believe I relied on you to accurately gauge the situation, and now I am in an unheated building with no tools or skilled assistants… I am surrounded by idiots.

After an entire hour—all we had done was remove the doors.

By that time, Paul was aggravated.

Which morphed into SUPER aggravated… when he finally figured out that the magic-keystone-starter-screw was on the BACK of the wardrobe.

The OUTSIDE of the back of the wardrobe.

Watching him realize that the back panel needed to come off first… AND that there was a WALL between him and that panel… and that all he had was a hammer and a flashlight…

I almost felt bad.
Almost.

But I am only the finder.
Paul is the getter.

I DID my part.

It turns out that Paul is like the James Bond of demolition.

James can blow up a car with a bottle cap and a pack of matches… But MY husband can take apart a wall with his bare hands and a hammer.

James? You have NOTHING on my husband.

Plus? James? You international man of mystery? My husband is totally more mysterious than you.

As we got further along, it became clear that the wardrobe was added after the house was built… it was brought in, in pieces, assembled, pushed against the existing wall, and then they built a false wall around it to make it appear built-in…

Paul is sure this was the wife’s idea… and that she and I would have gotten along just fine.

Incase you’re thinking that Paul was getting some satisfaction from making progress… this photo should set you straight.

In fact, he may have used the phrase: fool’s errand.

This is hour three and a half…

By now it was COLD… The building is being renovated into apartments, and there was no heat.

Was anyone having a good time at this point?

Sure! I was.

Does this NOT look like a total party?

I tried to be helpful… and motivational… and point out the positives like how the wardrobe itself REALLY did come apart with JUST a screwdriver.

Also, I tried to tell Paul how MUCH I love him!!

How really, really, really, really, REALLY a LOT… I LOVE him.

Which I cannot say he appreciated…

Usually if you tell your husband— I adore and worship you!! There is a base-level expectation of pleasantry in return… not the stone-faced response of—I will never ever, ever, ever do this again.

Which is a total lie!! We will DEFINITELY do this again.

We will do this as many times as Craigslist deems necessary.

Although, as it turns out… Paul was correct that it will not fit in the kitchen.
In fact, it nearly doesn’t fit in our house at all.

Literally—it barely clears the ceiling at the tallest fancy piece.

To repurpose it as kitchen cabinets, we would have to chop off six inches on both sides. And I don’t think I can do that. Even though it would solve all my kitchen problems. (Or create entirely new ones.) It’s too beautiful to destroy.

So it’s residing in our living room… the only room in the house with a wall long enough… we left out the center section to accommodate the window.

Does it make the room feel tiny? Yes.
Does it utterly destroy any kind of feng shui? Yes.
Did we have to remove 47 things that used to live in here? Yes.
Does it make ALL the other furniture the totally wrong choice? Yes.
Do we need a bigger house now? Clearly.

But it doesn’t matter. I LOVE it. If given the opportunity to get fifty more, I will.

227 Comments

You’re a great writer, and I laughed a lot reading this, except for the parts where I cried, which was all of it, because this is what happens to me EVERY SINGLE FRIGGIN’ WEEKEND, because clearly my wife is your long-lost twin. The only way I can try to one-up Paul is to admit I even worked at my wife’s vintage store. I have taken uncomfortable naps from utter exhaustion at approximately 7, 345, 218 antique shows since I met my wife. We even have storage units for our storage units.

I ask this out of complete love and respect for both of you, but what the heck is going on inside your heads?!?! WAIT!! I don’t want to know. I am scared I might find out. I feel better being naive.

You and I are soul sisters married to soulful brothers! I relate to every single word of this post. My most recent escapade involved dangling a 3,000 pound (or so it felt) antique oak Murphy bed over an equally antique railing and lowering it from the second floor of the most beautiful round staircase (which is why they couldn’t just carry it down the stairs) without dropping it and damaging the most incredible floor tile, made of the iridescent inside of shells, I’ve ever seen. My husband and three sons made me their personal slave for a month after that one.
Said bed resides in the middle of my living room floor now because we are still finishing the room it will live in, but I’m one seriously happy girl.

OMG I love your blog and writing style. I stumbled across this post and laughed so hard at your recount of finding this piece. First, hats off to your husband! I am married to a Master Carpenter with 30 years commercial and residential construction; he we said no if I asked him to go get this type of piece. Second, love this piece is the portal to Downtown Abby and Narnia! Yay to your brother for pointing out Narnia. I have signed up for your email list and can’t what else you find. I am decorating our house Farm House Chic. It started with a solid wood island that came from my childhood 1870 farm house.
xo, Lee
wineandcouture.com

Oh my goodness!! You make me wish I had all the time in the world to live on Craigslist and all the money in the world to stock my house with all the amazing things I know I would find on there!!! I LOVE antique, Victorian, historic, vintage, etc etc and my husband (like your Paul) rolls his eyes and uses words like obsolete. I’m such a mess, but I can’t help it. I think it’s in my DNA…

I LOVE your article on the piece in your living room! My recent Craigslist find was a upright grand piano with fancy carving for FREE!! I say it is true love to have a husband who is willing to move these terrific items. I haven’t scared my hubby off yet after 30 years of finds. Our carpenter friend took over a year to make it into a magnificent piano desk which did cost us but he is an extremely talented cabinet maker. It is the prettiest piece in my house. We most recently drove 2 hours to get a very ornate detailed pump organ which I am considering how to repurpose. LOVED YOUR ARTICLE!! Can totally relate. Some day soon I will post my piano desk on Pinterest. Your post made my day.

I love you. I think you are my long lost sister. I followed my husband around today quoting “Isn’t this Hoosier a small price to pay for my everlasting happiness?” To which he kept replying you cannot have it. Where will you put it? And other such completely irrelevant commentary. Eventually his no turned to a yes. I started laughing. He looked at me in confusion. I had your “sucker” comment reverberating silently in my head. Could not stop laughing!!!!!

Hi! I live in an old victorian townhouse apartment and my bedroom has a very similar wardrobe built in (minus the mirror). The trimmings of the floor and windows, the wood on the floor, and the doors (there’s two) themselves are all super dark. I’m not allowed to paint it and I also have extra wardrobes for clothes because the built in one doesn’t hold much. I love light and bright rooms and unfortunately this one is super dark, especially since the windows face a direction that the sun never reaches. I’m not sure what to do and I was hoping you could give me some advice. Thank you!

When I find a piece that I must have,I act just like you. That’s a compliment, BTW. Our house is full,including the basement and the attic. My husband tends to swear when I need his help on one of my goose chases. Now he has decided that he would like to retire some day. After 36 years together, he decided to mention that to me, now. I wish yu the very best of luck,furnishing your Victorian home. If you decide to share the pictures of your project, I would love to see them all!! The very best of luck finding the perfect piece of furniture that you absolutely have to have.
Gina Peebles

Congrats Victoria! I just about fell out of my chair laughing reading your story! I too found a very similar absolutely fabulous antique mahogany wardrobe…only I didn’t say a word to my husband …until it was delivered! He says things like..it sure is big, or are you sure it’s not haunted lol. Thanks for sharing yours..wish this would allow me to share photos of mine!

Love this. But I hope you found a place for the “original master bath commode.” You know, the central part. Those are the things I love. Other than, of course, the biggest, fanciest, fancy stuff. I don’t understand people who want “dainty” jewelry. Or people like my sister who think one painting per wall is too much. I’m still considering hanging some on the ceiling with chains. I live in the south and it is almost impossible to find the deals I see again and again in the northern states. I just found your blog and my husband hasn’t seen me laugh and giggle and nod my head so much in years. Thank you for the lifeline of decor.